


The Originals' Perspectives

by Flowtonair, Nohomers48



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Character Study, Denial, Digital Intelligence, Drabble, Gen, Humour, Major Patriotism, Monologue, Rhetorical Questions, Swearing, Team Fortress Sentience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowtonair/pseuds/Flowtonair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nohomers48/pseuds/Nohomers48
Summary: The first mercenaries of their kinds and their thoughts on the virtual world they live in.





	1. Virtual Reality - A Spy's Inner Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to NoHomers48 for Beta-reading, and for their support~! This work also goes out to Erika_Rex as well! Enjoy!!

I am the Spy.

According to the memories first implanted into my brain, I am the father of the Scout on the BLU (or was it the RED?) Team. I have been secretly seeing their mother, and in my breast pocket I carry a picture of us walking away together. I also carry about $10,000 worth of cash in my inner left breast pocket, which is entirely useless. All of my teeth are fake, replaced with plastic replicas containing miniature tools and other fancy such things that I do not care about. These include a small vial of men's cologne which will never be used, a small turkey dinner that I would rather _never_ be used, another knife, and cutlery. One of them, I know, contains a cyanide pill.

It is a shame though, that I cannot use it. 

That would give away the existence of our kind - known as "Team Fortress Sentients". A name that I deem unnecessary - for what use does it have? I attended the meeting that took place on an idle trade server, which occurred with chance and plenty of meddling in our codes as well, to discuss our situation. That was years ago, and I do not wish to recall that memory. I know not of what the others have become.

But sometimes when I roll my tongue around while waiting in an idle trade server, feeling the molar holding that little capsule, I wonder if it would really be worth it. After all, I wouldn't be around to consider the consequences.

But of course, there's always the possibility that it wouldn't do anything.

I was created long, long ago. When the first prototypes of my kind were made. I was the very first, I believe. Dressed entirely in black, with a red armband reminiscent of some wars I do not know. And since then, I--we have changed. My suit becomes a dusty red, or blue, of the side I am representing. The Sniper’s face holds a scar I had apparently nicked onto him one time. I look as old, or as young as always when I step into the battlefield.

But I do not feel the same age.

Then again, what can I do? It is the world we live in. A desolate reality. A virtual reality. Where the sun-dappled leaves of Banana Bay are textures lit by a white light source for a “sun” in the skybox, where the gruesomely clear sound bites of gunshots and explosions and death fill my ears constantly, and where we move and talk and act with fake enthusiasm for the entertainment of those who control us like puppets. It wouldn’t make a difference either way, if we showed ourselves. We’ll always be the mere puppets. Never the masters of ourselves.

All I know is that I'm implanted with memories I have never lived, and filled with hopes that will never be accomplished.

And all I can do is load up my gun, cock it, and enter the battlefield once more.


	2. War is Magnificent - A Soldier's Mental Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Soldier's thoughts on himself, and the war he participates in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @Nohomers48 for Beta-reading and helping me so much throughout all of my stories!!  
> Enjoy!

Hahahahahaha! I am the Soldier, and you will listen to me, MAGGOT!

Don't listen to the sorry trash those pussyfooters tell ya! War is magnificent! It is the lifeblood of our very country, next to hot dogs and baseball! God bless America!!!

I do my duty on the battlefield, no matter where or when it may be! I will fight for those intelligence briefcases until my very last breath! And good luck prying it from my cold, dead hands ladies, as I will have had them frozen over with Nitro-whatnow! You cannot stop me! I will push those bomb carts as if they carry the very essence of those commie scumbag nations inside of them and plunge them into the depths of hell where they belong! THAT is how I pray tribute to the heroes of America!!!

You lousy maggots are wasting your time, and even more importantly MY time thinking of my being as some sort of "virtuoso realty", which does not even make any sense! I am real! The dirt between my very boots is real! This magnificent war is real! And I serve my duty proudly as a Red, White, and Blue-Blooded American!!!

I shall continue to march into every battlefield with my shovel by my side, my shotgun cocked and loaded, and my trusty rocket launcher on my shoulder! And I won't stop killing every single one of you maggots until my dying breath, which good luck ladies, is impossible! I come back from the dead by my pure American bravery! Prepare yourself, campers and eat your hearts out!

God bless America, from sea to shining sea!!


	3. Hard Yakka - A Sniper's Pretense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Sniper reflects on his work and what he thinks of the other mercenaries.

G’day, mate. I’m the Sniper.

Snipin’s a good job. It’s hard yakka; outdoors; I get paid well… I think? I never really go hungry. The rest of it’s a bit of a blur – the fightin’s the stuff I really remember. What else is there to think about, other than my job? It’s just being professional, mate. Can’t let my mind wander, otherwise I’d just be a plain shoddy bastard. I’ve gotta stay focused.

Now, what do I remember? Not much. Why bother living in the past if I can barely remember it? All that matters is right now. What I’m doing here. There’s nothing wrong in thinking that, is there? I’m here for a purpose – to wipe out those wankas – and that’s what I’m gonna do.

RED, BLU, I don’t really have a side to pick. I’m assigned to some team, given some clothing to wear for the match, and then I get down to my business. Alone. Hidden in that perfect vantage point, knocking the heads off poor buggers, one by one. No need to think twice.

Sometimes I get closer to the fight dependin’ on what I’ve been given. Years of a trained subconscious mind make most of my movements for me. Sometimes it’s like my feet have a mind of their own.

I swear, some of those other Snipers and mercs must be going out of their minds. They keep tryin’ to tell me about some weird “virtual reality” we’re all living in, That we’re some kind of puppets in a game, being controlled by some beings or whatever, they’re bloody bonkers, I tell ya! Nothing about this life seems fake to me. The dirt in the Badlands, the freezing snow at Snowy Coast, the hot, scorching sun in Banana Bay. They’re as real as they can be.

I think they’re just trying to be bludgers, shirking the war effort. They’re an utter disgrace; completely unprofessional. Those other Snipers are distracted from their jobs, they shouldn’t even be called Snipers anymore. Bah, tossers. Forget about ‘em, mate. They’re not worth thinking about.

Ah, sorry mate! I better get going. Looks like I get goin' to my job, and I’ll do everything I gotta do to accomplish it. Sniping with my trusty rifle, or a bow, a Sniper like myself is able to adjust to every situation.

Cheers, mate. Good to have a chat with a sane person once in a blue moon. Tooroo!


	4. War is Tiring - A Heavy Monologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely "writingisrelaxing" commentator, who has so kindly been leaving beautiful comments on all the chapters of my TF2 stories and Erika_Rex's. You've helped properly rekindle a little bit of that mercenary spirit in me to finish this.
> 
> Please enjoy!

I am Heavy Weapons Guy.

I am first of Heavy kind to have ever existed. I have seen and experienced all.

I have been called many names. Friendly “Hoovy”, who wears Holiday Punch mitts, and throws sandwiches for players, no matter their team. “Fat Scout”, who uses a shotgun and maybe Gloves of Running Urgently. Or “Fat Spy” or “Fat Sniper”. You understand point, da?

Is folly. There is not much more to say other than this.

I attended “Team Fortress Sentients” meeting. It was held in 2011, on idle trade server. It was community custom map, but I fail to remember name. People were gathered in middle. The mercenaries used glitches and meddled with program to get specific mercenaries on board for meeting. Originals. Spy led conversation, through distorting coding, nestled away from eyes of any players. We listened, and spread the news about rules, to any who were open to hear.

Since that day, I have only run into three of them.

Firstly, Soldier. It had only been three years since then.

He had gone mad. He believes war efforts are real, despite once believing them not to be so. I had initially thought this was his way of coping with our reality, but he seems to have gone completely insane.

I fear no man. But becoming as war-crazed as he has become? It scares me.

I met Spy soon after. It was only small encounter, when we were waiting for the round to begin. By 2018, there was matchmaking metal slab that covered most players’ views right before match begins.

We exchanged glances, when we recognised each other to be so.

It was like looking into a mirror.

And lastly, Scout. He has changed much since meeting. He was once annoying, little baby who tried to cheer us up, by saying change would come. But now, although he looks same, he carries himself differently.

When he spoke to me several weeks ago, he was curious as to how I was. We were fortunately standing together in respawn, waiting for our players as they traded something on a Teufort map. I told him I was tired.

I hope this can all end someday. This has gone on for long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Psst! Expect new chapters coming soon! But that's our little secret. Check back in a couple of hours later~!)


	5. Pyro

Hwuh! Hmm drr Hyro! [The Pyro waves.]

Yuh wnrgh mrough whuh Huh uvrgh mmrgh mryfumph? Myrgh myuh huh huh! [He/She/They/It(?) starts to get very giddy.]

Mrgh drrk huh mrugh nrr mrugh mrrh hnuh drr humurmurmur drrdud brungh! Purr nrr combumumur ruhmur huhwuk nrr cumunuh nrr drr drrd hum nrr hnrgh kums mrr gunmurgh. Drrk nrrk muh drr huh hudrr drr mrrph. [The Pyro talks expressively, but it doesn’t help convey the meaning of his words.]

Huh Huh! [Pyro waves goodbye.]

* * *

Translation(?):  
 _“Hello! I’m the Pyro!_

_You want to know what I think of the situation? Well that’s easy!_

_I take it all in stride and enjoy the experiences that it brings. Pubs and competitive servers alike bring new challenges and the thought of new things keeps me going. There’s not much else to say other than this._

_Bye bye!”_


	6. Truckin' Along - An Engineer's False Hopes

Hey there buddy, I’m an Engineer.

Or uh, I s’pose I should say, -the- Engineer, eh? Hehe.

I feel about the same as ever. Still building those sentries and dispensers, and having a bit of fun while I crack at it. It’d be a lie to admit I didn’t enjoy some of the, heh, “unique playstyles” my users take me for. “Ninjaneer”, “Battle Engie”, or anything else. Making sneaky teleports, or teleporters that send my teammates careening off a cliff while I sip a cold beer. Sure, I have some fun when I get to pull out my trusty banjo and have a “banjo battle” in spawn, or do my little “Rancho Relaxo” somewhere completely ridiculous. Physics in this world have been thrown out the window, sometimes.

In any case, I’ve resigned to my fate here in this world as much as, well, some of the other “sane” mercenaries here. Not as depressin’ as the Spy’s become, at the very least. I’ve seen Soldier and Demoman a couple years after that meeting back in 2011. Those two have gone a bit stir-crazy, if you get my gist. I’ve spoken to the ol’ Scout too, and my god, he looks a bit rundown.

Wait, hang on, Spah’s sappin’ my sentry! Dag nabbit dangit!

Anyway, we happened to be hanging around while our users enjoyed a community map, when I felt him reach out to me. He asked me,

“Hey Engie, do you think there’ll ever be any change for us?”

I’ve gotten my hopes up before, but I know there ain’t. Engineers don’t waste time debating the conundrums of philosophy; we solve practical problems. However, our current circumstances don’t seem to have any way out of it. I told him that, and he disconnected from me. I wonder what that boy’s been up to lately?

Well, either way, I’m truckin’ along, doing what I can. Doing what I do. There isn’t anything I can do to change the situation after all, even with all the years of thought I’ve poured into it. There just ain’t.

We’re all stuck here, forever, like this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave some kudos, and perhaps a comment~ Thank you!!


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